


It Isn't Appropriate to Respond to a Thought

by LozaMoza



Series: Moments [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Foreboding, Humor, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, The Author Regrets Nothing, because Geralt and Yennefer, because the author is cruel, i love you is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25021294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LozaMoza/pseuds/LozaMoza
Summary: 3 times Geralt thinks "I Love You, Yen". Sounds innocent and sweet, right?Oh kids, you know me. ;)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Moments [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806943
Comments: 11
Kudos: 67





	It Isn't Appropriate to Respond to a Thought

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt is about Geralt thinking that he loves Yen.
> 
> The author regrets nothing! BWAHAHAHA!

The first time she had heard it, it had been completely unintentional. They had been lying together after making love, resting their naked and exhausted bodies in a meadow of green grass filled with tiny purple crocus flowers. The sunlight had been dappling their frames and warming their skin as they had held one another, enjoying the bird song and insect trill of the nature around them. They had been traveling when their passions had overwhelmed them and they had fallen into each other, laying on the grass as they would the lush Zerrikanian carpets in her home in Vengerberg.

As he always had, he had been imagining beautiful scenes for her to enjoy. He had been showing her a mountain trail that he had once traveled. She walked it with him in his mind now. Green ferns unfurled their fronds tenderly onto the dirt trail. The sun speckled the greenery of the forest, dancing lightly over the leaves and vines. Occasionally a pop of color would appear: yellow, red, violet. His mind’s eye always lingered longest on the violets, which made her smile. She could hear the sound of the stream babbling nearby, and he showed her the tiny silver fishes that darted beneath sunken logs. And that’s when she heard it:

“I love you.”

Her eyes had flown open. She had looked at him, but his eyes were still closed. He had not moved at all. Had he even realized he had thought it? Had it been intentional? She had waited to see if he would do something to let her know. Something. Anything.

There was nothing.

*******

The second time she had heard it, they had been bantering. That day had been a whirlwind. She had been attempting to bring some culture into his life, and had taken him to play put on by a trope of mummers. In truth, the play had been terrible and the acting poor, and he had decided to gloat about it afterwards.

_“So,” Geralt laughed. “That certainly was an eye-opening experience for me, Yen. I am grateful you have opened my eyes to what a marvel such cultural capitals like Vengerberg are.”_

_She glared at him._

_“I mean, life on the Path never offers me such intellectual jewels as prison guards having a farting contest.”_

_“Oh hush,” she grumbled._

_“And then the sheer talent on stage. The main lead forgetting his lines; the love interest with the large wart…I am thoroughly impressed.”_

  
_“You know, Witcher, no one finds that sarcastic wit at all pleasing. If anything, it’s excessively dull,” she snarked._

_“Oh, I wouldn’t say that…” he laughed as he pulled her into him. “I bet I can find at least one person who enjoys my sarcastic wit.”_

_“That bard chasing after you ad nauseum?”_

_He chuckled at that. “Dandelion does_ _appreciate a well-placed barb; it's true, but I have no idea where the man is; I’m guessing under someone’s skirts he’s not supposed to be. But he, Yennefer of Vengerberg, is not who I’m thinking of and you know it.” He put his hand against the back of her neck and started pulling her lips to him.”_

_“Geralt…” she started to say, but he kissed her softly and she lost the thought, lost all thoughts._

_And she heard it again._

_“I love you.”_

She had waited once more to tell her, to speak the words. But had he been silent. They had walked back to her home, his arm around her, and he had laughed about the play, complimented the fine ale, and had commented on his general distaste of cities, but nothing about those words.

Nothing.

*******

The third time had been after a fight. The fights had been getting worse, uglier than she had remembered them in the past. His hatred of city life had been growing. He had commented on how this isn’t how a witcher is meant to live. She had screamed in retort, telling him how tired she was of his Path, of his endless moaning and complaining about life and his role in it. They knew each other, and they knew how to hurt each other directly, and so they did. It had been ugly and brutal and left them both bleeding.

In the end, Geralt had left. 

She had thought it was over, like before. She had lain on the bed in her room, screaming into the empty air. No one had listened; there had been no one there to listen.

But he had surprised her, her Witcher. He had returned in the morning, laying his swords next to the door. He had walked into her room, their room, and had lain down beside her, taking her into his arms. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other, but she had allowed herself to curl into his embrace. He had kissed her hair.

“I love you,” he had thought.

He said nothing.

*******

She lay in his arms once more, running her fingers through his white hair. He was asleep, deeply so, their endless night of passion finally subsided to the gentle and steady breaths of sleep. 

“He said it,” she thought. “He finally said it.”

She had immediately responded. Of course she did. She would have from the beginning, had he only said it out loud. It was never appropriate to respond to a thought. 

She smiled, thinking about the future in front of them. Ciri safe in Aretuza and them, together. All the hurt and pain and longing of the past was behind them. The morning would explain so much, and they could start their lives.

“Tomorrow,” she thought with a smile as she drifted off to sleep. “Tomorrow will be the start of a new life.”

**Author's Note:**

> But I do promise, I love them. I really do.
> 
> As always, thank you for the kudos and comments! They are seriously the best. Plus make sure to leave prompts if you’d like me to write something! Who knows, maybe I’ll make it a soppy mess and surprise everyone!


End file.
